A Day in the Life Of Eric Foreman
by Montelimarie
Summary: Eric Foreman has turned invisible and the results are a managrerie of seriously out of character.. characters. House is stricken with the inability to make cutting remarks, Cameron's not being nice, and Chase is being more girly than ever!
1. Oh snap, Invisibility!

_This is a story about the life of Dr. Eric Foreman... wait, his first name _is_ Eric, right?_

Foreman looked up at the ceiling of his office and growled, "_Yes_, it's Eric. What kind of fanfiction writer doesn't do research before she writes a fanfiction? And you want to be a novelist when you grow up!"

_Hey, buddy, be lucky that I'm writing about you at all. The _show _is called 'House'... I should be writing about House, not some lame extra doctor. I just felt sorry for you, 'kay?_

"I don't need your pity, Missy. I'm a very good.. er..."

_Neurologist, I think._

Foreman glared, "Could you just start the story, please? This whole bickering between the character and the author got old a long time ago."

_I'm thinking I'll make this the story... It's easier to be funny when I can put my two cents in every once in a while, and the whole point of this is to be funny..._

"What? I thought this was supposed to be 'A Day in the Life of Dr. Foreman'? That's what the title says!"

_I can always change the title to 'Some Whacked-Up Parody Starring Eric Foreman and the Author'_.

"That's too long of a title... and don't you think I'm getting a little out of character here?"

_Mwahaha. You're a lame extra doctor, remember? I think you're the only main character who _doesn't_ have a set personality. House is, well, the star so he's got loads of demensions. Cameron's got second billing on that whole 'dimensions' thing, with her sugary intentions and the death of her husband. Chase is a little bastard, Cuddy's always angry at House... Yep, you're the neutral little doctor who sits in the background with an imaginary bulls-eye painted on his forehead, to which House's many sarcastic remarks are targeted._

"Oh.. Well, that's just unfair! Why do I have to be the lame extra doctor with the imaginary bullseye? I mean, I'm smart, I've got some things going for me, why-"

_Oh! Shut up your whining for a second, I think I got a storyline we can swing with here... Yes, this'll do nicely...__

* * *

_

Foreman woke from his dream with a start. He looked around, and by the reflection in the glass walls, the crick in his neck, and the feel of paper stuck to his face, he'd apparently fallen aflseep at his desk while looking through folders (he was, apparently, the only worker who did paperwork around the place.) It was such a strange dream, too, in which he was talking to the disembodied voice of a sixteen-year-old girl, who kept making fun of him. He thought about the things she'd said, about him always being ignored by everyone else, and shook his head. He wasn't ignored at all- he had friends here. Cameron and Chase were his friends, of course. Still, the girl's words stuck with him.

He glanced at his watch. It was eight thirty- not nearly enough time for him to go home and still be on time at nine o'clock, so he used the extra change of clothes he kept in the closet for days like this. Standing and stretching, he made his way to the closet and pulled out a change of clothes, quickly swapping out his lab coat for the clean but quite dusty extra one before turning to the glass door of his office.

Foreman opened the glass door and stepped out into the florescent lights of the hospital hallway. He'd always wondered why there was so much glass in a hospital. Someone could just toss a chair around and the resulting explosion of glass could hurt the patients, doctors, and staff that happened to be walking by at the time. It just wasn't practical.

"Hey!" a voice called from behind him. Foreman looked up at the ceiling, expecting the voice of the mean sixteen year old, but turned around to find Dr. Chase jogging down the hall. It was easy to think Dr. Chase was a sixteen year old girl, so Foreman didn't think too much on his mistake.

"Oh, Dr. Chase. What-"

But Dr. Chase kept talking to the orderly that he'd been calling. "Have you seen Dr. Foreman? I need the paperwork he was working on."

"Yo. I'm right here." Foreman waved, then moved closer to Dr. Chase, but the little Australian girly-man didn't even turn his head. Foreman twiddled his fingers right in front of his little Australian girly man nose, but he didn't even blink.

"Oh my God!" Foreman gasped, "This has to be some sort of manifestation of my imagination, brought on by lack of sleep. Or too much sleep. Maybe I'm dreaming still." Foreman promptly struck his head against one of the impractical glass walls of the hallway, causing a loud THUNK that made everyone look around in curiosity, and a splitting headache simultaniously.

"What was that?" Dr. Chase squeaked in a high-pitched girly voice as she er.. he ran to hide behind the orderly. The orderly shrugged and moved on down the hall. She had IVs to change and bedpans to dump- she couldn't be bothered with the antics of some blond girly man. His cover lost, Dr. Chase squealed again and ran down the hall in a prancing gate, his hand held slightly above his shoulder.

Foreman chuckled and leaned against a door, only to fall through it, then the floor underneath him, and land in the room where House usually brainstormed with the other doctors on the newest case. Everyone was there, including an out-of-breath and even paler than usual Chase, and they were all tapping their fingers on the table as if waiting for something.

"I guess Foreman isn't showing up for work today," House said as he stood, marker in hand. He wrote several things on the board and asked for the opinion of his colleagues. All of them answered with perfectly suitable solutions right away, and House frowned. "This isn't right. I'm supposed to shoot each of you down, one by one, until I reach a suggestion I like. I can't get through a brainstorming process without ahurtful stab at someone's personality or past life!"

"Well, since Foreman isn't here, you'll have to target one of us," Cameron offered in her annoyingly always-helpful manner.

"You know, you're annoyingly always helpful," House snapped. Then fell back into his seat and stared blankly at the wall. "That was the worst comeback I've ever had. And you're such an easy target, too!"

"Not as easy a target as Foreman," Chase said brightly.

"Oh, go... back to Australia," House stuttered. He looked at his reflection in the table with shock. "This cannot be! My skills for cynicism and satire have gone! I'm not longer the doctor I was before!"

"You mean.. a jerk?" Cameron said with a cheerful smile.

House hid his face in his arms and sobbed, "What could be wrong with me?"

Foreman grinned and laughed maniacally, rubbing his hands together in the stereotypical way of someone realizing they've got some great power on their side. Or someone who was really cold and trying to warm their hands. But Foreman's reason for rubbing his hands together was for the powerful thing, not the cold thing. Because, surprisingly enough, it was quite moderate in the hospital, despite all the impractical glass walls.

He could have fun with being invisible. If he could just figure out how to be coporial at will (as it seemed to come and go when he least suspected it) then he could have lots of fun antagonizing Dr. House, scaring Dr. Cameron, and... well, moderate fun with scaring Dr. Chase. He was easily scared, after all, and it was like trying to frighten a two-year old girl who'd just had a horrible nightmare. Not all that fun and kind of sad. Another similarity is they both usually wet their pants our of fear.

_Oh well, _Foreman thought to himself, stopping his maniacal mad-scientist impression to stand up and look over his prey for a few moments, _It'll still be fun with the rest of them._


	2. Utterly OOC

"You made me _invisible?_ How do you even explain that?" Foreman shouted to the ceiling.

_How does anyone explain anything? How do explain your explainations? How do you know your explainations are actually explaining what you'd want them to explain?_

"That doesn't even make sense!

_You don't make sense!_

"Ooh, clever. I can see why _you're_ the writer, here, you're obviously much sma- ow!" Foreman's sentence stopped mid-way, as a foam bat decided at that moment to mysteriously appearout of thin air and mysteriouslyswing itself upside his head.

_I can do worse than that, too, you little bugger. I've got real, metal and woodenbats in my arsenal. I've got cannons, anvils, ten-ton bank safes, and a catapault that hurls bovine and large geese. I have everything. I'm the writer, remember?_

"Oh, right, you've got 'all power'. Whatever." He jumped back as the foam bat floated to eye-level again, then held out his hands in a guarded position. "Alright, alright! I get it. You are god, fine. Just get on with the story, will you?"

_Hey, _I_ say when we get on with the story. And I don't _want_ to right now, okay?_

"Fine." Foreman crossed his arms over his chest and a long, uncomfortable pause ensued. This pause went on for several minutes while elevator music filtered through the room as if coming from crackly speakers. It was really horrible elevator music, too... like John Tesh or Kenny G or Abba orsomething.

_Alright, I think it's time to continue with the story now._

* * *

"Why do I feel like I've had someone following me all day?" Dr. Chase asked to the room around him. "And I feel like someone's been doing that shoulder-tapping trick, where they tap on the opposite shoulder of where they're standing, then you turn around and make a fool of yourself." 

Dr. Foreman snickered as he followed Chase and Cameron and several nurses down thehallway, occasionally poking and prodding at certainpeople to test his control over goingcoporeal at will.He pinched the bottom ofan attractive nursejust as Chase walked by, and the nurse swung around to face the Australiandoctor. Taking one look at his girlish appearance, she could only assume he was a frilly boy so sheslapped Cameron instead.

"Hey! Thatwas uncalled for!" Cameron cried, tears brimming her eyes as she sniffled like a little fiver-year-old. "Sometimes I have the odd feeling that people aren't...good. Or fair. Or nice." Shestiffled a soband put her hand to her mouth. "It's strange, I know, but I feel... cynical!"

"No!" Chase gasped.

"Yeah!"

Foreman took this moment to tap on Chase's shoulder and make the doctor spin around and around like a dog chasing its tail, looking for the culprit. Not finding anyone near enough, he grumbled and squealed as if throwing a temper-tantrum and continued walking, turning down the hall and into the little gathering meeting room, where House was rocking and sobbing in the corner. Wilson was watching him while reading a newspaper and sipping coffee.

"How long's he been like that?" Cameron asked.

"An hour or so, I think. I went to get some gum earlier and I came back and he was in the corner. He's been crying for much longer, though. He tried making a crack at the fact that I've been divorced three times, but he failed and it came out sympathetic."

House wailed in agony and Cameron walked over to him. She looked down, her hands on her hips, with a faltering smile. Suddenly, the smile fell apart altogether and she just kicked him.

Jumping back, she put her hands to her face in shock. "Omigosh, I didn't mean to do that! I meant to hug him!"

House hadn't seemed to notice the kick, though, and replied with a half-hearted, "You're so nice all the time. Stop." Realizing his horrible attempt to hurt her feelings, he pulled his legs closer to him, fell over into the fetal position, and started gnawing on his cane.

"Uh oh," Wilson said, hardly looking over at House. "I think that was the brink, and he just took a swan dive over it." To emphasize his point, he motioned falling with one hand and made a whistling noise like a cartoon bomb being dropped.

"Oh, that's so insenitive!" Cameron said, but her words were punctuated by small fits of giggles.

Chase was trying to wrestle House's cane away from him before he chewed it in half, but House was holding onto it with a death grip, his eyes staring vacantly at Chase's shoes.

"Your shoes are too shiny," he mumbled, refusing to stop gnawing on the cane. This sentence erupted a flood of tears from the diagnostician and a girlish squeal from Chase.

"Egads! My shoes can't be too shiny, it'd throw off the entire ensamble! Quick, someone get me some dust! No, wait, that'd be too dirty... Maybe I could change shoes. Brown ones.. No, I'm wearing a black belt! Oh, the horror! OH, maybe I have-"

"Shut up!" Cameron screamed. She clenched her mouth shut and sat down at the table, breathing rhythmically as if trying to calm herself.

Wilson stared at her. "Hey, you wanna be my fifth wife? You're way hot."

"What! No, you adulterating pig!"

Wilson shrugged nonchalantly and continued reading the paper, casting a few glances and winks toward Cameron while Chase whimpered and fretted more over his shiny shoes. He took to looking in the mirror and trying to rub the shininess off the shoes with dirt from a potted plant, but it just made a mess all over the office floor.

Cameron slouched in her chair, frowning miserably. She tore off a leaf from the potted plant and started ripping it into little bits, "Oh, nothing matters, does it? Why am I even in this job? The people don't respect the things you do, really, they just want you to save their life, then they complain about the bill like money is all that matters in the world. And the family of the patients, they get all uptight about us not doing the work fast enough or good enough, and it's like 'If your wife or whatever gets saved, does it really matter how it happened?' then they sue you for being rude. People suck."

Wilson sipped his coffee and nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, isn't that horrible... Hey, you wanna go out some day?"

Cameron looked at him disgustedly, "You're married!"

"Oh, like that's ever stopped me."

Chase cut in, "Hey, do my shoes look alright now? I mean, they're not too dirty looking, right?"

Cameron glared and looked at his shoes, "Whatever. You're still a pansy, you annoying blond kangaroo."

Chase looked at her huffily, his bottom lip quivvering. "You're just.. you're just a mean person!" He squealed and ran to the opposite corner of the room, sitting with his legs against his chest and staring at the shiny/dull factor of his shoes, trying to match it equally with his belt. When he realized that his shoes were _pitch black_ and his belt was only _charcoal black_, he wailed in horror and started muttering things about not having an extra pair of black shoes in his closet at work.

Foreman, upon seeing all this, looked around curiously. He hadn't messed with House very much that day, spending most of it following around Chase and poking him, and still House was a wreck. He hadn't even _planned_ to mess with Wilson, and the oncologist wasn't acting like himself at all. Cameron was being mean, and he'd hardly messed with her... It seemed like he had no real effect on them. So what could be happening? It was a mystery, and he had to use his newfound powers to get to the bottom of it all.


	3. Death, Destruction, Delirium!

**Sorry to all for the long wait. I'd been really busy (lazy) and haven't had the time (willpower) to finish everything up. I really wanted to do more than three chapters on this, but I didn't think this sort of thing could go on very long before everyone got tired of it, and there's only so much one can write in a parody that hasn't been completely beaten to death in every other parody out there. I think this idea actually has been beaten to death quite a bit, but since it's starring Foreman, it's only got the _appearance_ of freshness. If even that. Anywho, cheerio and enjoy the final installment of _A Day in the Life of Eric Foreman (...sorta).-_**

_-Yes, this is the actual title of this parody. I'd actually had it as "A Day in the Life of Foreman... sorta" at one point, but the silly ways of ate the little 'dotdotdot' and it looked weird, so I decided to just cut that bit out. It took away a lot of the title-comedy, and I'm sure people were like "Wtf? Foreman never turns invisible on a daily basis." but it's better that than looking silly. And, of course, I could always go philosophical on your asses and be like "Actually, it's a factual basis in the House community that Foreman is often ignored in both the shows and the fanfictions that circulate and, therefore, it's commonly said that Foreman might as well be invisible." ...so, if you've got doubts, I've just clarified everything._

* * *

Foreman was having a fit of laughter in the mysterious room in which he heard voices emulating from the ceiling. 

_Wow, that sentence just _screamed_ insanity, didn't it?_

Foreman stood up and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Hey, you're the one who wrote it."

_I thought I could use a bite of foreshadowing. Mwahahah..._

"Wait... What? Why are you laughing like that?"

_Er.. no reason. Hey! What are _you_ laughing at?_

Foreman was curious for a bit longer then, as I am the writer and have complete control, he suddenly lost interest in whatever it was that I was laughing maniacally about, so he answered my topic-changing question. "That deal with Chase is hilarious. Can I pick on him some more?"

_Sure, why not. The People are making comments about how, despite the fact that this is a Foreman fanfic, you're hardly in it. I mean, I _try_ to put you in it as much as possible, but it's very hard, you know. I mean, all I really know about you is your name, you used to be in jail, and you're the Token Black Guy._

Foreman suddenly sobered up as he slid down the wall of the mysterious room. "Wow. The people-"

_The People. With a capital P._

"Whatever it is, they're right. I'm so neglected." And Foreman began to cry again, only this time it was out of sadness rather than joy.

_O, how the roller coaster of human emotions twists and turns. It's really enough to make one hurl._

Foreman continued sobbing. Loudly.

_No, seriously. Stop. I have to get on with the story, now._

Foreman sniffled and leaned against the wall. "Okay," he said weakly.

_You are such a baby. Freakin' weird ass... Oh. Right. Story. Carry on._

_

* * *

_

"Dear God, what is she doing?" Foreman said as he phased through the wall of Cuddy's office. He looked around and suddenly realized that no one was going to answer him, as he was invisible and whatnot, so he decided to answer himself. But, seeing how it really wasn't all that fun to answer oneself in oneself's own voice, he decided to answer himself with an English accent.

"I say," English Accent Foreman answered, "I do believe she's shotgunning a beer."

And there Cuddy was, surrounded by members of the staff, standing on her desk sucking the beer from the bottom of the can. Her shirt was askew, her skirt was rolled up so that it was several inches shorter than it should've been, and she'd kicked her shoes out the window about five minutes ago. The male secretary that she'd hired a while back was hooting and hollering along with everyone else, and a vivacious shade of lipstick smears covered his shirt, face, and neck- the same shade that Party Girl Cuddy happened to be wearing at the time.

Foreman looked on in horror as the Dean of Medicine that had been so strict and lawful in the time that he'd known her dance on her desk, making lamps and folders and various other things fall and crash to the floor. He took a look behind him and saw the janitor painting all the impractical glass walls a sickening shade of green. A nurse was stealing bedpans. Several heart monitors were going off, but whatever staff wasn't painting or stealing was chatting and smoking and drinking liquor out of the bottle. One angry male nurse had decided to play chicken with a wall, and was, at that moment, riding a mop bucket straight into a large section of glass, sending shards everywhere as he made contact. It was only by a triumphant "WHOOOO!" that Foreman knew he wasn't dead.

"The entire hospital is going insane," Foreman said to himself dramatically. "I think it's my job, with my newfound powers, to save them." He took a final look at Cuddy, who was now doing a strip show for her audience. "First, however, I am going to see what kind of underwear a Dean of Medicine wears."

Just as he was about to lean against the wall to watch, however, he fell through the floor again. And somehow ended up back in the Brainstorming Room with House, Cameron, Wilson, and Chase.

"Damnit! Not _you_ people again!" Foreman yelled angrily. "Cuddy was about to take her skirt off and I fall in with The Mental Breakdown Society? Auhg. This is _just_ my luck."

None of them could hear Foreman, of course, but it was therapeutic to yell and scream all your frustrations out. Or something.

"Why haven't we left this room yet?" Cameron asked everyone.

"Because we're stupid!" House offered. Then sobbed a few more times before going silent. Foreman was really starting to pity the poor man.

Chase looked up from his shoes, which he'd probably been staring at since Foreman had left a an hour and a half ago. "I don't know. I just feel like we should be in here or something. Like we should be doing something in here."

Cameron tilted her head and stared at the table. "What do we _usually_ do in here?"

They all thought a while. Foreman stared at them all in wonderment - had they really forgotten what the Brainstorming Room was for? Sure, it really wasn't _called_ the Brainstorming Room, but it's close enough to the real thing, I'm sure. Or not. Whatever. This story isn't meant to be perfect, you know... Anyways, moving on. Where were we? Oh... right. Foreman was staring at everyone as they tried to think of what the room they were in was meant for.

"Coffee?" Chase said, nodding to the coffee pot and various coffee-related things. Like stirrers or something.

Foreman glared at Dr. Chase. "No, you little girl, it's where we determine the ailments of the various patients that come to the hospital," he said. But he wasn't heard. Because he was invisible.

Cameron shook her head after not hearing Foreman. "No, why would there be a room specifically for coffee in a hospital? And it's not a lobby or anything either, 'cause otherwise, what's the whiteboard for?"

"Patients. Ailments. Determining cures and whatnot," Foreman said again.

"Right..." Chase nodded, the went back to staring at his reflection in his absurdly shiny shoes. The idea of trying to figure out what the room was for was lost on him as he tried to fix his girly hair.

"I think it's where we all try to determine the ailments of the various patients in the hospital, and we all think of ways to cure said patients," House said from the corner, his voice muffled as he'd been eating the leaves off the potted plant for the past ten minutes.

"YES!" Foreman shouted.

They all thought about it for a moment the shook their heads. "Nah."

"That wouldn't explain why I'm here," Wilson stated, taking a sip from his coffee while simultaneously trying to grope poor Cameron's leg. She slapped him several times before finally whacking him upside the head with a hardcover book she'd found on one of the shelves in the room, and Wilson stopped. Mostly because he'd been rendered unconscious, but he stopped all the same.

"You're here because you're a scheming, free-loading, womanizing bastard," Cameron screamed, standing up and hitting Wilson over and over with the book.

Foreman stared at Cameron, who used to be so nice and who had now probably killed Dr. Wilson. And Dr. Wilson who was quite the womanizer, but never _that_ much of a womanizer, and who was now dead or in a coma or something like that. House was in the corner choking on the leaves he'd been eating and, as Foreman tried to help the doctor, he was unable to as his hand kept passing through him. Chase was staring at his shoes so intently he'd forgotten to breathe and was turning blue, and Foreman couldn't do a thing to save him.

Foreman ran into the hall, trying to find some way to get someone's attention, but the hospital was in ruins. Everyone was breaking things, dancing, and drinking. Someone had set fire to the clinic and everyone was rushing around like chickens with their heads cut off. Cuddy was rushing through the hallway with a martini glass in one hand and her skirt in the other and trailing behind her was the audience that had been in her office. Suddenly, though, Cuddy tripped and fell out an open window.

Screaming in horror, Foreman ran around the Brainstorming Room, then back into the hall, then through several walls, the feeling of being unable to do anything increasing with every second. It was only when a large moose ran through the hospital that he had the sense enough to wake up from the horrible nightmare.

He was in his office. It was about eight thirty and there were papers covering him. He'd apparently fallen out of his office chair from all the excitement and he'd bumped his head on the wooden desk. It'd been such a vivid dream- everything was perfectly clear, and at times it was even boring. Dreams were never boring. It was so strange. There was a knock on the door and Foreman sat up properly, straightening the papers and setting them back on his desk.

The door opened and in walked Dr. Chase wearing a pink and red polka-dotted dress. "Great news!" he said. "I found shoes that match!"

Foreman screamed in horror until the Men in White Coats came and took him away. He's stable, now, but every once in a while the other patients in the Mental Hospital can hear him whispering "If only they'd paid attention to me!"

* * *

**the end**


End file.
